[𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒] [𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍]
Gabriel Sinclair was no saint, and he made no pretenses about it.
Ruthless, cunning, and unhinged -those words only begin to scratch the surface of his true nature.
Like a merciless hurricane, h...
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"I remember wishing I could be boiled like water and made pure again."
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Stepping inside, I almost regret leaving the cold and crisp atmosphere outside. The transition into the warm and hushed tones of the restaurant amplifies the queasy feeling churning in my stomach. The aroma of sizzling dishes and murmurs of conversation envelop me, heightening my discomfort. It is as if the scent of food only serves to exacerbate my nausea. And when I spot Gabriel's broad shoulders seated at our table, the feeling intensifies tenfold, hitting me like a punch to the gut.
I avoid meeting his gaze as I settle back into my seat, but the stiffness of my movements betrays my agitation, despite my attempt to maintain a stoic expression.
The silence stretches on, and I find solace in the soft texture of the napkin as I idly twist it between my fingers. When I finally look up, I am surprised to find that Gabriel hasn't spared even a glance in my direction. His focus remains fixed on the window, where shifting shadows from a nearby plant dance across his profile, casting a softened glow on the sharp edges of his features.
His fingers absentmindedly trace the rim of his almost-empty glass of red wine, the faint clink of glass echoing in the quiet ambiance. At that moment, he seems lost in thought, distant, as if trapped within a bubble of glass that renders him simultaneously near yet unreachable.
My heart leaps into my throat as his gaze swiftly shifts to me, his eyes piercing through the air like sharp daggers. I feel a wave of tension wash over me, causing my fingers to unconsciously tighten around the napkin.
"Is that a habit of yours?" Gabriel inquires, his tone calm and measured, as he sets his glass down with precision before leaning back in his seat.
His gaze bores into me with an intensity that feels like a physical force, as if his eyes could pierce straight through my core. My nerves heighten the effect, rendering his brown eyes impossibly deep, like swirling pools seeking to swallow me into their dark, endless depths.
"What?" I grumble, the words barely escaping my lips.
"Bolting every time the situation isn't going your way."
I purse my lips but say nothing. Aria's voice echoes in my mind like a mocking intruder, but I forcefully push it aside. No matter how hard I try, I can't fathom why any part of me would want to be here.
"I step outside because I don't want Aria to jump to any wrong conclusions," I assert firmly, my grip tightening around the napkin until my knuckles turn white.
Gabriel's expression remains inscrutable, his thoughts and intentions concealed behind a mask of indifference. The rhythmic tap of his slender fingers on the smooth armrest of his chair reverberates in the air, each tap echoing like a countdown to the inevitable confrontation looming between us.
